(Challenge) Corporal Jenkins: Spectre Reborn
by Silenius
Summary: A writing challenge story-starter for others to build upon or use. Roughly 2 days before the Eden Prime incident, Corporal Jenkins finds himself host to another consciousness in his mind - a guilt-ridden, insane Shepard from an Alternate Universe who not only failed to defend his galaxy, but ultimately destroyed it. Follow Jenkins as his survival, and choices, change the galaxy. AU


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Mass Effect or any related properties. That right belongs to EA/BioWare. I am simply dabbling in the universe for the sake of fun and entertainment.

**Author's Note:** This prologue is intended as a story-starter (or series-starter) for writers other than myself.

* * *

_"...the Crucible has changed me, but the alteration was not without flaws. Your engineers could not finish what they set to accomplish before the time came to connect the Crucible and the Citadel..."_

The Catalyst's words were like a slap to Commander John Shepard's face. So it had all been for nothing? All of those hard decisions he'd been forced to make, the people he had pressured into joining the engineering and research teams, the gallivanting across the galaxy looking for Prothean technology..._this_ was all he had to show for it? The largest, most complex piece of engineering in the entire galaxy and it wouldn't even _work_?

_"The Crucible can still function,"_ the Catalyst clarified, _"but, where you might have had a multitude of options to make use of had your engineers fully completed their task, you now have only one. And know that, should you still intend to make use of it, that option will come at a heavy cost..."_

Shepard didn't need any further information. The Crucible would work, and that was all that mattered. The Catalyst began speaking of the certainty that the Crucible's incomplete design would destroy the Reapers, but in addition to every other bit of life in the galaxy - no differentiation between organic and synthetic. Its use would not be a victory for humanity, nor for any other species in the galaxy. The Reapers would be eliminated, the threat of harvest and conversion instead replaced with genocide on a galactic scale. Was this not too extreme? In the face of this choice, was subjugation not superior to extinction?

Shepard no longer cared. Perhaps he'd stopped caring when he betrayed the memory of Urdnot Wrex by giving the krogan a fake genophage cure. Wrex would have been smart enough to catch the deception. He'd always been something like a grizzled old sage, sharing wisdom with Shepard as they hunted for Saren, wisdom acquired from a millennium's worth of life experience and consideration of his people's future. His brother Wreave, on the other hand, was an imbecile and entirely too easy to fool. It didn't make the betrayal any less potent, any less real. This was the second time he'd robbed the krogan people of the opportunity to be free of the disease that had tormented them for centuries.

Then again, perhaps he'd stopped caring when he'd been on Rannoch, caught in the middle of a war with no possible means to make peace, all while a much bigger problem threatened to rend the galaxy in two. Peace between the quarians and the geth wasn't possible, and he absolutely _needed_ the strongest force he could muster against the Reapers. The geth had the resources he needed...the quarians didn't. After watching the Migrant Fleet be obliterated in the skies above Rannoch, he stood helpless as Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, the woman he loved, took her mask off and faced him...

...And the look of disgust and despair and pure _betrayal_ on that beautiful face spoke more to Shepard than words ever could have in that moment...

...And with the unfiltered air of her extinct people's homeworld filling her lungs in a final breath, Tali threw herself from the cliff.

The truth was it didn't matter when Shepard had stopped caring. He'd already lost everything, made so many mistakes, mistakes that might never have been if the people of the galaxy would have simply acknowledged the truth after Ilos all those years ago! Well, he was done. The game was over. He'd lost. But it had been a rigged game from the start. Could a baseball team be expected to win with only their pitcher on the field? Well...if Commander John Shepard was going to be forced to lose at a rigged game, he'd make damn sure that _everyone_ lost! The Reapers...Cerberus...the asari...the turians...the humans...everyone.

_Everyone_ would lose!

So, as he raised his pistol and began to fire, Shepard let out a bitter laugh, an insane cackle that echoed throughout the halls of the Citadel and seemed to carry even through the vacuum of space. Shepard laughed as the Crucible's systems initiated, the built up dark energy of its eezo core shifting color from a gentle blue to a deep crimson tinged with sickly shades of yellow and green, like puss in a bloody, festering wound.

Time slowed to a crawl as the pulse triggered and the explosion began tearing everything apart.

Shepard's body was first. Somehow, he knew he was still laughing despite it all. It wasn't the same as dying over Alchera, where the pain had been intense as the oxygen and pressure slowly bled from his suit into the cold vacuum of space, where his breathing had become ragged until it simply stopped and his vision became strained until all was engulfed in purest darkness. No, this was very different. He knew his body was already gone, annihilated in the epicenter of an explosion that murdered an entire galaxy. Yet, regardless that his body was gone, his mind remained. It was not whole, something had surely been broken and lost in those final moments on the Citadel, but his consciousness seemed to endure.

It tumbled through a swirling haze of sights and sounds, smells and tastes, all manner of things invading his senses without a care that he had no body with which to sense them. Pain, pleasure, sorrow, joy, hatred, love, cruelty, compassion - everything was _present_, everything was _potent_. Everything filled him, pulsing through every inch of whatever he now was. John Shepard? A man? A ghost? A god? He didn't know. He _couldn't_ know.

When the tumbling and sensations finally ceased (how long had it been? seconds? an eternity?), he was surrounded by darkness, surprised to find that it was not that familiar darkness of the void, not the darkness he'd known when he'd breathed his last over Alchera. This was a simpler darkness, as though he'd merely closed his eyes to await sleep after a long day. But his body was certainly gone, disintegrated in the blast that ended the Milky Way. Was this to be his doom, then? To exist in a simulacrum of sleep, perpetual darkness, perpetual loneliness, for all eternity? Is this where he'd stay and ponder the mountain of guilt atop his shoulders, the blood of countless creatures on his hands? Was this his Hell?

Into the darkness, what was once Commander John Shepard laughed.

He laughed...and he wept.

And closed eyes opened to the sight of a sleep pod's interior.

* * *

Corporal Richard L. Jenkins did not often have nightmares. More than that, it was a very rare occasion when a nightmare kept him from a restful sleep. This night was an exception, and it startled him to find just how horribly claustrophobic he felt in the confined space of the sleep pod when he opened his eyes. He was awake now, completely alert, yet he still seemed to hear that horrible laughter mixed with the discordant, choked sounds of sobbing.

Drawing in his focus, Jenkins tried pushing the sound to the back of his mind, blot it out the way he'd been taught to expunge stray thoughts back in Basic Training. While the technique seemed to be effective to a small degree, it felt as though there were still a kind of lingering presence at the back of his thoughts. If it had been like a barking dog before, Jenkins had managed to at least muzzle it and shut it in a kennel. It might be quiet now, but the marine got a distinct sense that whatever the presence was, it wasn't actually _gone_.

_'Hope I'm not going crazy right before my big chance_,' Jenkins thought, as he opened his pod and made his way to the galley area. '_With all the scuttlebutt that we're picking up a council Spectre tomorrow, Captain Anderson must have received serious orders from up on high. Maybe it's time to test the Council's multi-million credit stealth/recon prototype in some ACTUAL stealth and reconnaissance scenarios. Maybe they'll send us into the Terminus Systems, or maybe even into the Perseus Veil! Maybe we'll be able to see first hand if things like the geth are more than just stories...'_

Jenkins shook his head fiercely. He was doing it again, hoping for danger to rear its ugly head so he could have his chance at glory. Doctor Chakwas had warned him about that kind of behavior before, but what was he _supposed_ to do in his situation? He was currently stationed on the SSV Normandy SR-1, the biggest multinational expenditure of Council funds in history. The ship was being captained by David Anderson, the greatest Alliance war hero short of Admiral Hackett. Captain Anderson's Executive Officer was Commander John-freaking-_Shepard_, whose own status as an Alliance war hero was well on the rise after what happened at Elysium. Single-handedly holding off a pirate attack from a force the size of a small army until reinforcements arrived was nothing to scoff at. And the rest of the crew - from doctor to pilot to Chief Engineer to freaking _cook_ - all had service records that sparkled like polished silver.

All except for _him_.

Young Richard Jenkins was a peasant standing amongst _kings_. By comparison, were one to glance at his own service record, and that's not even saying he _had_ much of one since he'd barely even begun his second enlistment period, he would appear to have about as much value to the crew of the Normandy as a wet towel. In a _blizzard._

Now, he wasn't deliberately trying to be self-deprecating. After all, it was a great honor and privilege to be aboard what was tentatively being called "the flagship of the Alliance". He'd even been told by Lieutenant Alenko that Commander Shepard had personally picked him for the Normandy's primary Away Team after sifting through hundreds of potential candidates' dossiers. While it had made Jenkins' chest heave with pride at the time, now he couldn't even figure out what it was he was supposed to be proud _of_. He wasn't the best out of all those dossiers, no way, not by a long shot. He knew he had more than a few disciplinary marks on his record, and his skills, both athletic and academic, were middling. So _why_ was he chosen?

_'Perfect students are a bore. If you need a protege, it should be a challenge. Makes the finished product all the better.'_

Jenkins stopped and looked around. He'd arrived at the small galley area of the ship, not more than a short walk from the sleep pods, to find it empty. A quiet chime from his Omni-tool signaled that the hour was now 0400. His shift, the day shift, wouldn't be starting until 0600, and it wasn't surprising for the galley to be empty at this hour. Yet, despite that, he was certain he'd heard Commander Shepard's voice just then. He took another look around, but the XO was still nowhere to be seen.

_'My imagination's just running wild from that creepy dream_,' Jenkins thought, giving his head another firm shake, as though that would send the weird sensations flying from his mind. '_I've gotta focus, or I'm gonna be worthless during combat drills today! Man the hell up, Rich! You're a marine, and marines don't get spooked just because they had a bad dream!'_

_'A bad dream,'_ the voice came again, making Jenkins' back go ram-rod stiff. '_Yes. A nightmare, surely. Oh, Tali, why?! I did what I _had_ to do! I didn't want to _kill_ them! I didn't mean to kill _you_!'_

Jenkins raised his hand to his temples, massaging them with his palms as he shook his head a third time. When he'd finished, he cocked his head to one side and listened intently. The sound of the voice did not return, and Jenkins heaved a sigh of relief.

_'Okay, maybe a trip to Chakwas later wouldn't be a bad idea,'_ he figured, taking a seat at one of the empty tables in the galley area and fiddling with his Omni-tool to set a reminder to have a walk-in. _'The stress must be getting to me. I'm spending too much time feeding my own anxiety, here. I need to blow off some steam, get some of this off my chest, and then start fresh.'_

Nodding to himself in satisfaction, Jenkins rose from his seat at the table and decided to take the elevator down to the hangar. Since it was the largest space on what was a relatively small ship with a relatively small crew, it tended to double as the exercise and drill area, and Jenkins needed some physical activity to take his mind off the gnawing question of why he was starting to lose his marbles.

As the lift slowly made its way down to hangar level, Jenkins couldn't help but wonder who or what the hell "Tali" was...

* * *

**Author's Note: **This story idea came to me while reading "The Wheel of Time" series by Robert Jordan (concluded by Branden Sanderson). If you're familiar with it, then you might realize as you read this prologue what particular piece of that series inspired me. ;)

Again, this prologue is intended as a story-starter (or series-starter) for writers other than myself. A challenge, if you will. I may continue my own branch of it, but for those who are interested in taking up the challenge, here are some key points that should be retained in addition to the stuff in the prologue:

- The primary protagonist of the story is Jenkins. Parts may be written from the perspective of other characters, but the tale must ultimately follow Jenkins' journey - from follower, to leader, to legend in his own right - over the course of all three games and the intervening time skips.

- Jenkins struggles with the unfamiliar voice and memories wreaking havoc on his mental state, while trying to keep himself looking as sane as possible in front of everyone.

- Jenkins survives Eden Prime (obviously) and has seemingly gained a hefty portion of the skills and abilities that made Shepard a phenominal soldier (possibly including biotics, if you choose to write FailShep as biotic).

- FailShep's fragmented memories sometimes grant Jenkins a degree of insight into certain situations, while other times causing problems when things turn out differently than expected.

- The Shepard from Jenkins' universe is still male. While originally I constructed the challenge with a heavily Paragon Shepard in mind for Jenkins' universe, a reviewer pointed out that it might be better off with a blue-leaning NeutralShep, if only to not damage the realism of the story too much. Apart from those two things, though, authors may tweak the character how they please.

- Jenkins develops feelings for Tali, struggling with both the thought that they may not even be his own feelings, and knowing that Tali is in love with Shepard. Whether Jenkins and Tali do or do not eventually become a couple will be up to the author.

- Whom the Shepard from Jenkins' universe ultimately romances (if _anyone_) will also be up to the author.

- Finally, at several key points throughout the story, FailShep and Jenkins should struggle for dominance over Jenkins' body and mind.

- Everything else is fair game!

I know, I know. That's quite a long list. But I'm hoping that, despite all of that, folks will be interested in seeing this story come to life. I'm looking forward to what may come!

**-Silenius-**


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